Episode 1

Erica woke up from her nap stowed away in a crash couch. Her body ached from the odd, contorted position in which she had fallen asleep. She let out a long yawn and inspected the cabin around her. Her cabin. The ever present hum of the air recycler was a calming sound at this point in her journey. She felt a strange flutter in her stomach when she thought about the journey she and the rest of the ship’s inhabitants were on.

She swung her legs and let her feet touch the metallic floor. The coolness on her bare feet gave her system a bit of a shock and she almost recoiled back into the couch. Almost, but didn’t. She got up, she had to, she’d taken a nap because for the past few rotations she had been living off of bad caffeine, gruelling mundane office work and little to no sleep. That’s what you get for being a relatively lowly security officer on this ship. She’d been dealing with a spate of robberies - minor things: some machine parts here and there, nothing mission critical. Nothing worth the time of the actual detectives aboard. 

Truth be told, she didn’t mind at all, really. She was content being the one to take orders as opposed to the one making them. Would she sometimes voice a differing opinion only to be ignored? Sure. Would she sometimes wish that the higher-ups did what she suggested? Sure. Did she let it consume her and make her bitter? Nope. She knew her place and while she sometimes got things right with her thoughts on situations (when looking in hindsight) she was also very happy with not being the one to answer for things when they went sour. She’d had that job before; she didn’t want it again.

She strode over to her little cabin’s wash area and sprayed some recently recycled water on her face. The fact it used to be… other forms of water… did not bother her in the slightest, having grown up on an outpost on Ganymede. There the water was either recycled or purified - depending on the social strata you were lucky enough to live in. She rubbed her oily skin as clean as she could and then dried herself with a cloth. She did not need to shower, nor was it her allocated shower slot so she simply adjusted her pale blue jumpsuit and equipped her service issue utility belt, making sure to check the charge on her stun baton. In the two waking years aboard, she’d not needed to use it, but she liked to be sure just the same. Full charge, that was good. She slipped on her boots and was ready.

Erica flashed a brief “go get ‘em” smile to herself in the mirror and then swiped her hand to open her quarter’s hatch. The sound of bustling life erupted into the (until recently) soundproofed cabin. It was a pleasant soundscape; it meant life was going on as per normal. Or at least as normal as it could. She exited left and went on her way, her magnetic boots clanking on the grating that made up the floor of the hallway. The mags weren’t activated as there was no need but the clanking remained all the same. It did not bother most of the inhabitants anymore, they’d grown accustomed to the sound by then. Not to mention there was a large contingency of the population who grew up in low-g environments; magnetic boots were for them a staple.

Erica passed some of her neighbours and gave them a nod of acknowledgement or even a friendly wave to those she considered just more than acquaintances. There were some, but not a whole lot who fell into that category. Being a security officer on a long haul ark mission was not exactly a job that got you automatic friends. Erica understood this and begrudged no one for being a little weary of her and her fellow officers; in reality, no one had any hostility towards the Horizon-Sec officers. No one she knew anyway - and she’d met almost all the inhabitants.

Louis saw her as she entered the sector 4 mess hall. His face lit up and he gestured for her to come and sit with him. He was a tall man with a gaunt face but kind eyes. Erica counted him as one of two actual friends on this ship: him and Danis, an engineer in sector 1 who had the best bar stories she’d ever heard. Erica sidled up to Louis, she was not particularly hungry so she just sat there with him.

“Did you get some sleep at least?” Louis asked. He was concerned. Of course he was. Nurses were like that.

“Enough.”

“Good,” he said, then took a bite of his loaf.

“I’ve got an interview in a few minutes so I can’t stay,” said Erica, stealing a pea-like object from his plate. It was really just a protein ball of sorts. Tasted… okay. “But see you in sector 2 tonight? Tell Danis, will you?”

“Going to bust some moves this time?”

“Certainly going to watch you bust some moves, yeah,” Erica quipped back and hopped up again. She did not wait for his reply and headed on out the hall. She had to catch a transport tram to get her to the Horizon-Sec Command Centre in time for her interview. She was fit, but not fit enough to jog all the way to Sector 7 in the time she had. She hailed a tram (really a fancy little caged cart on tracks) and slipped in, buckling herself up so that the thick straps made an ‘x’ across her chest. Just as she was about to punch her destination in, Louis came hurrying out the mess hall down the way, he scanned for and then waved at Erica.

“I forgot I have a patient to check up on in Sector 6!” he shouted. “Wait up!”

Erica gave him a faux-evil grin and punched her tram to go. Louis’s face contorted into clear frustration as he saw her starting to leave without him.

“I’ll get you for this!” he shouted after her, mostly joking.

“Sure!” Erica shifted to face forward, grabbing hold of the bar of the buggy’s roll cage. She took a few moments to clear her head. She still had two interviews to do, this one coming up would help her isolate a more workable time frame, so she hoped - 

A loud groan blasted from everywhere and all at once the screams of thousands of people filled her ears as in an instant the world of the Horizon flew past her. The sudden g-force struck her body like nothing she’d ever experienced in her life and before she could grasp what was happening, she blacked out.

Episode 2

"We are now in orbit around your new home, travelers." A humanoid yet robotic feminine voice sounded throughout the Horizon. "Welcome to Eden, previously classified Waylan 135b of the Waylan System. Congratulations, your years-long journey among the stars has ended."

Klaxons were wailing and so were a myriad of indiscernible voices all around her. Erica felt a pinch on her wrist where her wristband was. It woke her up. Her back and right arm felt numb and overall she felt as though she had just been smashed against a wall. She groaned and tried to shift in her seat, she was hanging sideways in the buggy's roll cage, her seat-belt had caught her from falling through the opening of the buggy on the opposite side to the one she entered. Her head was pounding and she tasted blood.

"We- we- we are n-n-now in orbit arrrrround your n-n-new home, travelelelers-" the ship's AI continued her prerecorded speech, growing more and more stunted in her delivery as the catastrophic damage of whatever just happened to the Horizon was filtering through circuits and affecting the AI's mainframe.

Erica grunted and hauled her working arm around her body to detach herself from the seat. She did so and felt her body drop and slam against the floor of Sector 4. Once again the sudden pain was immense and she felt a pool of some cool liquid against her arm and head. When she eventually managed to lift herself to a somewhat upright position did she see the pool of blood. Her head pounded and she reached up instinctively and found a large cut along her scalp. At least she knew where the blood had come from. Her mind went into survival mode. She was bleeding, but conscious and alive. This much she knew. What she had to do was survey the area and find out what had happened. 

Her years of training reminded her that while she was just a lowly security officer, a drastic event - as was what seemed to be the case now - was literally her job to deal with. This mental reorientation of purpose brought back into earshot the sounds of the Horizon around her. People were shouting for help, people were crying. She could hear only a few footsteps echoing in the distance. Most people were clearly injured, and unable to move a lot. This was something big. She forced herself to manoeuvre up and slowly out of the now wrecked buggy. She pulled herself into a semi standing position, using the buggy's one wheel as a stabiliser and looked up.

Immediately she wanted to look down again, not only because of the dizziness, but also because of the sight that was now her reality. Chaos was not a word she would use to describe what lay before her as it was much too tame a word. Buggies were everywhere, various crates and bottles and cups - really anything - lay strewn across the floor as far as Erica could see. The usual day lights had been replaced with flashing emergency red lights and all around her were the mangled bodies of most of Sector 4. Dead.

She kept her gaze away out of respect but the images remained scoured into her mind. Images of limbs bent in ways that shouldn't be and bodies squashed as if they'd jumped from a skyscraper. Without warning, some tears began to well in the corners of her eyes. Erica sniffled and snapped her head up.

"No, no, no," she fought with reason and began to limp as fast as she could back the way she had come on the buggy. The numbness in her side was subsiding, turning into something more like a dull ache. She didn't have to go very far, whatever had happened had happened very soon after she’d left. She reached the transit station and hurriedly looked around. She looked around desperately for something she hoped she wouldn't find. But she found it. Found him. There, on the far wall of some building, a mech shop or similar - like she cared what building it was right then - was Louis. Erica did not go closer, she knew he was gone. She'd known it before she'd set off on her limp-run. She had been spared because she had been in a roll cage. Most everyone else it seemed had not been so lucky. 

She did not approach Louis' body. It would not be dignified, and she couldn't bear it.

It was then she felt it, or more precisely, didn't feel it. The ship's thrusters, the ones that make a constant vibration (minimal as it was usually) were definitely not active. The realisation came to her like a crashing wave: the Horizon had stopped. A full stop.

She forced her gaze away from her dead friend and wiped her eyes. This was serious and there would be time to mourn later. Right then, she had to do something to help. She scanned the sector around her and in the distance she saw a few survivors. They were waddling about aimlessly, some dazed, others lost - both in words and thought.

Erica made herself walk with as little a limp as she could. The civilians needed a show of strength from the security team and until she found who was left of her team, she was determined to be that strength. Her eyes caught one of the survivors and Erica forced a meager, well mannered smile of reassurance to spread across her face. The survivor, a woman who seemed to be in her early twenties, reflected the smile back as best she could and began to waddle towards her.

"Your, your uniform," she began as she made her way to Erica. Her voice was small, like a child. "What's happened? What do we do?" She paused and her eyes glazed over slightly, "Daniel went to get us a snack..."

"I'm Erica, what's your name?" Erica knew she had to keep this woman's mind from wandering.

"Cally," said Cally, "Are you with security? What happened?"

"I am, yes," Erica started, "And I don't know exactly, just take it easy. If I had to guess, I think the ship just did a full stop."

"A full stop?" Cally's voice became more shrill. "A ship doesn't just do a full stop! Why-"

"I don't know, but the sec team will find out. Right now we need to get the survivors together and find out from the Horizon Commander what our next steps are."

"Full stop?" Cally blinked, her feet dragging. "No. No, the schedule says three months. We can't stop." Erica guided her toward the other wanderers, but Cally dug her heels in. She looked at Erica, her pupils dilated and uneven.

"The Commander," Cally said, the words tumbling out. "He knows. I saw him. Last night? Was it last night?" She grabbed Erica’s arm, her grip weak. "Daniel isn't back. He went for a snack. He's just getting a snack. Why isn't he back?"

Erica remained silent as they moved slowly up the walkway. Cally was clearly suffering some sort of concussion, but Erica was no doctor. Louis would know what to do. She felt her emotions well up again, but pushed them down. It was not the time.

"Do you know where the Commander would be? Isn't his cabin in Sector 2? Maybe we should head there?" Cally said with her renewed vigour.

There were a few simultaneous beeps from Erica's and every other functioning wrist band display. They were all receiving a message. Erica paused and lifted her arm to view the message. It flickered open upon facial recognition. The messages appeared in rapid succession, each one simple and clear:

<EMERGENCY PROTOCOL ACTIVATED.> 

<CHAIN OF COMMAND ASSESSMENT COMPLETE.>

  <ERICA HAUSEN TO TAKE COMMAND OF THE HORIZON.>

Episode 3

“Did you say your name was Erica?” Cally said. She’d stopped walking, and so had Erica.

“Yes,” short, curt reply. Truthfully Erica was processing a lot. She’d just experienced a full stop of the ship, survived, discovered her best friend on this boat hadn’t made it, found a dependent, and now realized the chain of command had fallen to her. Her. If she was the next in line then that meant a whole lot of things. First and foremost: how many people had lost their lives in this event? She was nowhere near the top-dog position.

Erica fidgeted with her sleeves. Cally, having regained herself, limped up to face Erica. Her eyes were kind and her face was a mask of reassurance. In an instant, Cally seemed to have sobered up.

Probably the fact that she had no responsibilities right now, thought Erica and immediately took it back. Not that she could. Just like she couldn’t throw back the promotion she’d just received. Her heart started to beat uncontrollably. She felt her body sway but caught herself. It was the cards she was dealt and she had to continue. Erica took a deep breath and looked back at Cally. She needed an ally in her full wits, this new development had been a blow to Erica, but also given her a window to reason with Cally

Rip the bandaid off.

“Cally,” began Erica in a strong yet soft voice, “Daniel may be alive, but odds are he isn’t. I am sorry about that. The only way we can find out either way is if we gain control of this situation. Do you understand me?”

Cally’s head bobbed back a bit as she processed. Erica saw her eyes dart around. Eventually Cally took a deep breath and responded, “We should get you to a shipwide terminal, you can do your job and hopefully we can learn more, ” she wavered, “and get more info to help us find survivors.”

“Yes,” said Erica and she looked around. Their wrist devices had communication abilities, but it was too personal. You had to have people’s contacts. Only the ship's AI had full access to broadcast. Stupid privacy protocols, thought Erica as she started towards the general direction of the mess hall. A memory of her, Danis and Louis each chugging a cup of milk for some silly milk-champion title flashed across her mind.

Danis… was she alive?

She put that and similar thoughts from her mind as she and Cally began their trudge through the debris. Here and there a fellow survivor limped into view or in their direction. Erica gave them her best ‘I’ve got this’ impression and motioned them towards the mess hall. They needed a meeting place and Erica needed to get to the ship-wide terminal that it housed so that she could take full, grudging control of the situation.

Erica and Cally along with a group of about fifteen survivors entered the mess hall. The scene that greeted them was worse than what they had seen before. It was roughly around a meal time that the stop had happened. So many people had been sitting, eating and socialising. The room looked like a massacre with a mix of bodies, blood, food and various kitchen utensils. Inertia had taken its toll. Behind her, someone gagged. A collective gasp of the group seemed to suck the oxygen out of the room. This wasn't a meeting place. It was a graveyard.

And this was not the best first call she’d made as Commander.

Erica turned her gaze to the group. Their faces told her everything she needed to know. They needed to not be there. She needed to not be there. She needed the terminal though. She needed to be there, but they didn’t. Erica found herself at a loss.

“Alright everyone,” she began, her mind racing for a solution, “This is not going to work, let’s all find our way to the Sector 4 gym.” That was a safe bet, the gyms and rec centres were closed during peak meal times, to ensure close to full attendance at the mess halls. The higher ups thought it best that people socialise on long voyages like theirs.

There was a general murmur and the occasional tear shed as the crowd dispersed, heading slowly and painfully to the gym. Cally stayed back, she seemed undecided whether to go or stay. Erica motioned for her to go with them. She hoped the gesture was taken as it was meant. Erica needed a second in command, at least at that moment.

Before the survivors had left the mess hall entrance, the ship-wide speakers sparked to life and a gruff man’s voice came through.

“If anyone else has survived please find your way to the designated rally point in sector 2. I repeat, all survivors please meet at the sector 2 rally point as designated in the emergency protocol policy.”

The speakers cut off and Erica looked at Cally who returned her gaze with an equally incredulous look. This was yet another new development, one that she’d have to deal with later.

“Survivors to the rally point,” Erica said as she hoisted herself back towards Cally and out of the mess hall. “Chain of command later.”

Episode 4

Ronderon’s restraints caught him with an agonising force, all the air rushed out of him and remained that way for a few, long seconds before the inertia finally allowed him to breathe again. He groaned and rubbed his chest. 

Definitely broke something.

He unclasped his body and felt it drop slightly as he slid from his crash couch to the floor of his cabin. He took in his surroundings, admiring his handiwork. At least in his cabin things looked relatively normal. His workbench was utter chaos, but this was normal and a few items of clothing had found home in odd places around the room. He grunted a chuckle, of course his cabin would be the least affected, he’d had time to prepare.

Ronderon took a deep breath and steadied himself. The stop was something he had to do, and human suffering aside, it was something he’d kind of wanted to do. He'd felt so... in control. And so, he knew the predicament he was in; it was of his design. However, he had to play the part to not cause too much suspicion and so he did what he heard so many others doing over the sound of the alarms: shout for help.

His voice joined a myriad of others calling for aid. Some were expressing their desire to be freed of their sudden confines, others sounded injured. Ronderon chose panic as his damage. Nothing physical - besides his rib, he was sure of it now - and nothing causing him to stay put, just sheer panic at whatever had just caused this disaster. He needed to create a narrative that his neighbours could corroborate.

Once he'd deemed his shouting enough, he moved towards his entrance and swiped it open. It slid open less smoothly as it was used to, something must have been jostled out of place. He could fix it later. The hallway he entered was dark save a few red emergency lights. Ronderon looked from side to side and for the first time in a long time took a breath and felt something cold run up his spine until he shook it off with renewed vigour. His neighbour, a neighbour who had always been so kind to him, was splayed across the grated flooring... and the opposite wall. Ronderon looked away.

This was always going to happen. Ronderon gathered up his resolve and began his feigned limp towards the nearest common area. On the way he passed doorways that were either open or closed. The closed ones he attempted to override and open, the inhabitants were banged up but alive and grateful. A little girl smiled a weak thank you. The open doors were more complicated, most were open but the inhabitants were trapped. For those individuals he took a brief pause before deciding to enter and remove whatever was stopping their exit. It was the right move; they thanked him.

The hallway was still dark and Ronderon found odd comfort in following a trail of blood against the wall. The lights on the opposite side lit the trail of breadcrumbs near perfectly. If he just kept to the wall he’d have few obstacles and presumably get to his destination.

He knew the Horizon’s protocols and policies like the back of his hand. He had to get to the Sector 2 mess hall, that was the designated rally point in the event of a major disaster. This counted, he’d made sure of it. 

The emergency lights flickered out and his hallway was plunged into complete darkness. He reached for his wrist terminal - to find nothing.

Shit, he pushed past the impulse to use his terminal for a source of light and carried on. He had a few corners to turn and then he’d have to have some light. The mess hall has its own battery backup. 

     As he trudged through the dark, not only once walking into something squishy that thankfully put up no fight to stop his foot, he began to take real stock of the situation. He’d have a lot of cleaning up to do. He’d not anticipated this much death, it was the changing of a cycle! People were meant to be  either getting into or out of crash couches! Of course there were those who kept odd hours, the ship’s meal times allowed for flexibility, but those were not the majority. Still, there was more carnage than he’d planned for.

Will there still be a capable crew?

After what felt like ages a light began to glow in the distance. By now the constant infernal droning of the ship’s AI telling them they’d reached their destination was like white noise, he’d blocked it and the crying of various crew out of his mind.

As he’d begun to suspect, the Sector 2 mess hall was a bloodbath, but he didn’t have time for that. He needed to take control of the situation. He located the ship-wide comms and made his move, forgetting his non-existent limp and rushing. He almost slammed against the wall that the comms were attached to, he fumbled with the mic eventually getting it in a perfect position.

“If anyone else has survived please find your way to the designated rally point in sector 2. I repeat, all survivors please meet at the sector 2 rally point as designated in the emergency protocol policy.” Ronderon smiled to himself and put down the mic before turning out to take proper stock of the hall. Some of the remaining crew had already been there and they looked rattled. A woman stuck up her hand. Ronderon took a second before holding out his own hand and motioning almost ceremonially at the woman. She took the cue to speak, through broken teeth.

“Are you Erica Hausen?”